by J. S. Cooper
“I was just making sure that no one was in your closets, ma’am. It doesn’t hurt for me to make sure everything is okay.” He walked out of my room with a slight frown. “All looks clear.”
“I already told you that.”
“You have any issues, you call us.” His eyes searched mine as he spoke and then he handed me a card. “You can’t be too careful these days.”
“I’m very careful.” I walked him to the door and wondered if I should tell him about the note I’d just received. I was about to, when I remembered what my father had always told me when I was growing up: “The pockets of the rich are deep. Bianca, only trust someone if they give you reason to trust them. Even the police aren’t above being bribed.” “Thank you for your concern, Officer.” I nodded at him and waited for him to leave. My heart was pounding, and I needed to think.
“No worries. Stay safe, Ms. London.” He nodded his head, and I closed the door. It was only after he left that I realized he knew my name. How did he know my name?
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. What was going on here? Today was turning into one mysterious day. First the note, and then the police showing up. I didn’t know: who sent the note, why they sent the note, who called the police, how he had gotten into my building, and how he knew my name. I chewed my bottom lip as I tried to figure out what was going on. I stared around my apartment, and suddenly the coziness of the room felt claustrophobic. I’d always loved living in New York City, but today my small one-bedroom felt like a cell. That the building had seemed so safe when I moved in suddenly felt like a fallacy. I didn’t know my neighbors, and I had no one to talk to about how the policeman had gotten into the building or the mysterious letter that had arrived.
The dirty peeling walls directly opposite seemed to be closing in on me as I stood there hoping for clarity to hit and questions to be answered miraculously. I walked to my tan leather couch and sat down, leaning back into the plushness of the cushions. It was the only nice piece of furniture I owned. And even then it had been a gift from my best friend, Rosie. I could barely afford the rent in my apartment as it was, and I wasn’t living in Trump Tower either.
I picked up the bright red-and-orange-patterned cushions that my father had gotten me in India when I was a teenager and then froze as my cell phone rang. The noise was jarring in my eerily quiet living room. I normally always had the TV on or music playing; I didn’t like being in quiet spaces for too long. It reminded me of how alone I was. I grabbed my cell phone and dropped it when I saw the screen. My father’s phone number flashed on the screen. My dead father’s phone number. I stared at it before reaching down and picking it up again.
“Hello?” I answered softly, my voice cracking as I wondered who was calling me from my dad’s phone. I was pretty sure I still had it in a box in my bedroom. I took a deep breath to stop myself from freaking out and jumped off the couch. “Hello,” I spoke into the phone again with my voice trembling, this time unable to hide how freaked out I was by the call.
“You should be more careful, Bianca,” a deep male voice spoke into the phone. I couldn’t make his voice out clearly, as the phone had a lot of static.
My voice rose. “Who is this?”
“You shouldn’t let strangers into your apartment.”
“I haven’t let any strangers into my apartment.”
“Anyone can be anyone. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“What are you talking about?” My face started to feel hot as I sat there in fear.
“Be careful of those who seek to help you. They may do more harm than good.” Then he hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand and ran to my bedroom to find my dad’s phone. The box of my father’s things was on the bed, and the lid was off. I ran over to it and saw that the phone was gone. Who could have taken it? No one had been in my apartment in weeks. No one except the policeman, but why would a policeman go through my things? Unless he hadn’t been there to help protect me from an intruder—perhaps he was there to find something to protect someone else.
I looked down at the business card he had given me and froze. It was blank. All he had given me was a piece of white card stock. It was then that I knew this was the next step in whatever was going on. I knew then that the policeman had been looking for my father’s papers. The papers that he’d left me were full of clues. It didn’t matter that I didn’t fully understand them yet. Obviously someone else wanted them.
I walked to the window in my living room and looked down to the street. I stared at the homeless woman who’d settled into the block directly across the street a couple of weeks ago. The woman I gave a couple of dollars to once a week as I passed by her. The woman who quoted a different Bible verse to me every time she saw me. The woman who shivered even when the days were warm. The woman who wore a Cartier watch and had freshly dyed highlights. The woman who knew exactly when I left and entered the building. I didn’t know who she was, friend or foe, but I knew that she was watching me.
I walked back to my bedroom and stared at my father’s box for a few minutes before closing it carefully and placing it back in my closet. I was grateful that I had removed my father’s papers from the box several weeks ago. I hadn’t known why at the time, but I’m someone who always listens to her first instincts. I then went to my dirty-clothes basket, pulled out my clothes, and threw them onto the floor. I instinctively looked around the room again to make sure it was empty, even though I knew there was no one in there with me. I pulled out my mother’s old cedar jewelry box that I’d hidden under the clothes and slowly opened it. I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw the stack of papers hidden under the cheap costume necklaces I had bought at Goodwill. I carefully closed it again, carried it with me to the kitchen, and placed it in a plastic bag. Then I pulled my cell phone out again and made a call.
It had been four days since the note arrived. Four days that I’d been on tenterhooks wondering what was going to happen next. I’d never felt this anxious before. Or scared. However, I tried to continue living my life as I normally did. There was nothing I could do but wait and see what was going to happen next. I also knew what the next step of the plan was. I could do nothing but wait for my ex-boyfriend David to come through for me. He was my only access to more information. I hadn’t wanted to trust him, but I knew that in a game of cat and mouse the one who got the cheese was the one who took the most risks. I just had to be patient. Though, it was hard. Even watching shows on the History Channel didn’t capture my attention for long.
“I’m not dating online again,” I muttered as I deleted another rude message from a man known as Matt, or as his profile said, KnightInShiningArmani.
Online dating was something I’d been doing since David and I had broken up. At first, it had taken my mind off everything that had gone down with David. Now, it helped me to occupy my thoughts when my mind drifted to dark areas. Generally, I enjoyed my online conversations, but there was something about Matt that had really turned me off. He just wasn’t getting the hint. I’d made the mistake of talking to him twice on the phone before deciding that I wasn’t interested in going on a date with him. He definitely looked handsome in his photos, but he’d been arrogant and demanding on the phone, and his e-mails had gotten creepier and creepier. I stifled a sigh as I saw another e-mail come through from Matt and picked up my phone to call my best friend, Rosie.
“This is Rosie speaking.” Rosie’s voice sounded tired as she answered the phone.
“Hey, it’s Bianca,” I said lightly, and walked over to my vanity. “What are you up to?”
“Just a little something called work,” she responded with a sigh. I could tell she was tired from the lack of excitement in her tone. “What’s up?”
“Want to grab a drink tonight?” I checked my reflection in the mirror and sighed. Months of facial exercises hadn’t helped to define my cheekbones at all. “Not that I need any alcohol. My face looks puffy. However, I haven’t seen you in over a m
onth, and we need to catch up. There’s some stuff I need to tell you about.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t look puffy, and yes, we need to catch up.” Her tone changed. “I want to hear what you’ve been up to.”
“Trust me, it does,” I muttered, frowning at the bags under my eyes. “I’m going to make myself a face mask and put some cucumbers on my eyes.”
“Must be nice to be self-employed,” Rosie said jealously.
“Must be nice to have a steady income,” I responded back tartly. I’d been freelancing, writing entertainment articles for a couple of online newspapers, for about a year, and I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision. As much as I loved movies, my true love was for the kings and queens of England, and I really wanted to become a history professor. However, freelancing gave me the opportunity to play Sherlock Holmes, or, realistically, more like Stephanie Plum. I needed the flexibility in my schedule to allow me to investigate what had happened to my mother more freely.
“Touché.” She giggled. “And yes. I’m down for a drink. It’s been a long month and an even longer day.”
“Boss back?” I made small talk even though I didn’t want to. I really just wanted to tell her about the note and the fake policeman. I wanted to tell her about the woman who watched me from across the street and the feeling I had that someone was following me. I knew this wasn’t the time though. I’d have time to tell her everything tonight.
“Yes, he’s back from Shanghai, and he’s acting like a bigger douche than ever,” she moaned. “He’s treating me like his assistant again. It’s not like I’ve been running the department for the last month or anything.”
“Drinks are on me, then,” I offered. “Maybe he’s treating you like that because he knows you can take over his job and do a better one in a heartbeat.”
“Bianca, you think very highly of me,” she said appreciatively. “However, you can’t afford to buy me all the drinks I’m going to need tonight.” She laughed and then paused. “Ooh, you also have to tell me how your date went with that guy you met online.”
“Oh, I told you about that?” I frowned into the phone, confused. I couldn’t remember mentioning that I was going to meet Matt, but ever since I’d started doing detective work on the side, I couldn’t really remember who I was telling what. I really needed to keep a journal of the information I was giving to different people. Rosie had been my best friend for years, but I knew that she wouldn’t approve of my investigations, so I hadn’t really told her much. But I was starting to think I needed to confide in her when I saw her later.
“Yeah, you told me you were going to meet that guy online, to help get over David, remember?”
“Oh, that was weeks ago, and I canceled it.” I groaned. “I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.” I stared into my eyes in the mirror as I spoke. I felt bad about keeping secrets from Rosie.
“Bianca, you can’t cancel the date before you meet him. Plus, he looked hot in those photos you showed me online. All masculine and sexy.”
“Yeah, he was hot.” I nodded as I walked back to my computer. I shook my head as I sat down. I’d obviously told her about Matt if I’d shown her photos. “He just seemed like a bit of a creep.”
“They’re all creeps.” She sounded annoyed. “Anyway, he looked cute.”
“I don’t want to date a guy who’s creepy before we even meet.”
“How was he being creepy?”
“Listen to this e-mail he sent me last night.” I sat on the bed and put my laptop on my knees. “Hold on a sec. I’m going through my trash, since I deleted the e-mails.”
“No worries.” She paused. “Hey, I wanted to tell you that I saw David a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh?” My heart stopped for a second, and I took a deep breath. “How did he look?”
“Handsome as ever.” She paused again. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said stiffly as an image of David crossed my mind.
I didn’t want to talk about David. Not over the phone. Not now. He was the most handsome guy I’d ever dated, with his dark brown locks and bright green eyes. He was tall and buff, and he looked like every woman’s dream. Rosie had been shocked when he’d asked me out and we’d started dating. She hadn’t known the lengths I’d gone through to get his attention. Though, to be honest, I’d never felt secure in the relationship, and when he’d cheated on me, I hadn’t been that surprised. Our relationship had been complex, and no one else knew exactly how complex it still was.
“Have you spoken to him recently?”
“Not since we broke up.” I bit my lower lip, hating to lie again. “I’ve started several e-mails though.”
“Does he still call you?”
“He called me a few times, but nothing in over a month.” I sighed. “Maybe he’s moved on.”
“He’s a dick, and you know what he was thinking with.” Rosie sounded hesitant. “I mean, I know guys have needs, but shit, he should have told you that he couldn’t wait anymore.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with him.” I sighed. “It just never felt right. I wanted it to be special.” And it would never have been special with David, no matter how handsome I thought he was.
“I know. He’s an asshole.” Rosie went back to being supportive. “It’s his loss.”
“Exactly.” I sighed as I thought back to David. “Did he say anything to you when you saw him?” I asked casually.
“He said hi.” Rosie’s voice sounded awkward. “And something else, but it didn’t make sense.”
“Oh?” My fingers froze on the keyboard. “What else did he say?”
“He said that there was more than one way to skin a cat.”
“What?” I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I think he’s trying to woo you.” Rosie’s voice became thoughtful. “I guess he figured out that just apologizing and calling wasn’t going to cut it. I bet he’s going to try to step it up a notch and really try harder to win you back.”
“You think so?” I stared around my bedroom and thought for a second. This was the one room in my apartment that David and I had never really spent much time in. I lay back on my bed and sighed. “I was an idiot, wasn’t I. I should have just had sex with him. I’m sure it would have been amazing. Maybe we’d still be together now.” I felt odd saying the words, as if I were playing a part in a play. You’ve been watching too many movies, Bianca, I thought to myself.
“Don’t blame yourself, Bianca. It’s not your fault. Maybe this is what he needed, to see how much you mean to him. Maybe he’ll be all romantic now. What if he takes you on a surprise trip to Paris or something? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“You think he’d really do that?”
“Who knows?” Rosie laughed. “Hey, hold on. I just got a package from a new and very cute delivery guy.”
“Okay.” I laughed and sat back up, still looking through my e-mails for the deleted messages from Matt. I wanted to get away from the conversation about David.
I should have known from his screen name that he was going to be an asshole. I mean, Knight in Shining Armani? Only a pompous asshole would choose such a name.
“Thank you, Billy.” I heard Rosie speaking to the delivery guy and ripping open her new package.
I smiled to myself as I imagined her decimating the package so she could find out what was inside as quickly as possible. She’d always been impatient when opening packages and presents. I only hoped she treated any packages she received from me with more care. I stared at the plastic bag on my night desk and wondered if I was making the right decision to entrust my papers with her.
“Oh my God, are you there, Bianca?” Rosie’s voice was jittery and excited.
“Yeah, why?”
“Someone just sent me a present.”
“Ooh, what did they send?”
“A Tiffany’s bracelet and a note.” Her voice was growing louder with
excitement.
“What does it say?” I asked casually as my stomach flip-flopped.
“It says ‘My dearest Rosie, you don’t know me yet, but I very much want to know you. Accept this gift as a token of my friendship.’ ” She paused. “And that’s it.”
“Who’s it from?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was low. “I wonder if it’s Joe from accounting. I’ve seen him giving me a few rather obvious admiring stares recently, ever since I got those blond highlights.”
“But you know Joe. Wouldn’t it say ‘You don’t know my intentions yet’ as opposed to ‘You don’t know me yet’?”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s slow or didn’t think it through properly.” She laughed. “Who cares? I just got a bracelet from Tiffany’s.”
“I can’t wait to see it tonight.” I was slightly envious. No one was sending me gifts from Tiffany’s. Not even David, who might or might not be trying to woo me back. I thought back to my own, more ominous note and wondered if there was a connection.
“I can’t wait to show it off.” Rosie’s squeal interrupted my thoughts.
“Okay, I have the e-mails open. Are you ready to hear the craziness?”
“Yes, let me hear.”
“ ‘Dear CreativeGirlNYC, Have you ever been to Rome? It’s such a romantic city that I would love to fly you there in my private jet. I’d like to take you to the Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps. Then we can share pasta and drink wine as we gaze into each other’s eyes. KnightInShiningArmani.’ ”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s weird. He knows my name is Bianca, and I know his name is Matt, so why doesn’t he use our real names? And, well, we’ve never met. It’s too much too soon.”